


Love and Sweetness (as Much as I Can Manage)

by thescribblenaut



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hush - Freeform, I know, Ice Bucket Challenge, and an old idea, and should be stopped, in which the author uses too many ridiculous tags, it's an old challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescribblenaut/pseuds/thescribblenaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ice Bucket Challenge- Sherlock style!</p><p>Partially inspired by my own lack of organisation, and yes, by Benedict Cumberbatch's challenge(s). Also, I decided that maybe the charity could do with a little tiny signal boost? Donate to ALS people!</p><p>Sorry, bad summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Sweetness (as Much as I Can Manage)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my friend/personal stalker Olivia (the one who occasionally comments with names like 'Oh look it's just your personal stalker' and possibly terrifies half the readers in doing so), who recently came back to school after a while off sick, looking like death lukewarm after a spin in a half-alive microwave. And as she is almost constantly nagging me to write something other than angst, this happened. Well. I trawled through my files for something relatively amusing. Hope this isn't too bad! It's not as well-written as my others, it's not meant to be. It's not meant to be taken seriously. Just a bit of a laugh, really. Enjoy!
> 
> As per usual, I do not own, nor do I profit from. I tried asking Santa, but he's not talking to me because I asked Rudolph to put a word in for me. That nose gives him away every time. 
> 
> Excuse me, I am mad.

Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes at the camera set up in front of him. He was sat on the ground in Mrs Hudson’s back garden, eyeing John warily as the doctor filled three buckets with cold water, for ice to be placed in later. Molly switched on the camera, and started recording.

“Hello, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my Icebucket Challenge. I have been nominated by Sally Donovan, Henry Knight, and Mary Watson. And a plethora of people on the internet, because you all apparently enjoy seeing me in discomfort. Anyway. This is to support ASL, who work to battle a killer disease, which isn’t as well known about as things like cancer, because it’s less common. So. Because so many people have nominated me, apparently I have to have _three_ buckets thrown at me, so I hope you enjoy it. God knows I won’t.”

He nodded to John, Molly, and Mary, all of whom grabbed a bucket eagerly. Mary lead the countdown, speaking loudly so the camera could pick up the sound easily.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One!”

 

Sherlock shut his eyes tightly, shuddering and tensing as the three buckets of freezing water, as well as partially melted ice cubes, rained down on him. A shout of protest escaped him, before he added;

“ _Cooold!”_ Molly quickly tossed him a towel, then asked who he nominated.

“M-Mycroft Holmes, I nominate him infinite times, actually, s-so he c-can’t wriggle out of it. I also nominate J-John Watson, and Molly Hooper. Don’t f-forget to donate, I’d hate to freeze to death for nothing.”

 

Molly stopped the recording, and Sherlock jumped up, sprinting into the house and up to his flat, jumping in the shower fully clothed. The water took a minute to heat up, and he couldn’t have it at the usual temperature, because that would _hurt_ (cold skin, scalding hot water, not good), and then stripped off, staying under the warm spray for a good twenty minutes. And although he would gladly have stayed there for quite a while longer, he didn’t want to risk missing a case for a shower, so he reluctantly stopped the water, stepping out and drying off. He then realised that he’d completely forgotten a spare set of clothes, so wrapped his towel around his waist. He unlocked the door, stepping out when he thought the coast was clear, only for freezing, icy water to drench him again. He released a loud, angry hiss as every single cell protested, shock shooting straight to his core, now cold again. He hadn’t even closed his eyes, and now had water spilling over them. Without a word, he turned away from the inevitable camera, going back into the bathroom and locking the door before turning the shower back on.

 

* * *

 

He dodged the next attack. Coming out of 221, he spotted the bucket just as the water was hurled and promptly shut the door. He waited until he heard the unmistakable sound of water and ice cubes sloshing against the wood, then opened it again, only to be hit in the face with an empty bucket by an irate Sally Donovan. It landed on his head like a helmet, which apparently made the entire thing better.

 

* * *

 

The last time was the worst. They’d clearly been working up to it. A swimming pool. Full of freezing water an ice cubes. The first Sherlock knew about it was when Lestrade informed him of a swimming race the Yard was having, which meant that the DI desperately needed Sherlock on his team to win. Initially, Sherlock refused. He’d had more than enough of water and challenges for a while. But Greg Lestrade was a patient man, and continued pestering and wheedling for a full fortnight before the consultant finally snapped.

“Yes! Alright! Fine! I’ll do it!”

“Great! I’ll see you at the pool this Thursday. Training. We’ve hired out the pool.”

“Whatever.”

 

What actually happened, was this. Sherlock turned up, went into the changing rooms, got as far as removing coat, socks, and shoes, was then grabbed and immediately frogmarched to the side of the pool, which was packed, with Molly and her blasted camera. Thankfully he’d thrown on a t-shirt and jeans, easier not to fiddle with buttons at a swimming pool.

“This, Sherlock Holmes, is the final part of your Ice Bucket Challenge!” Mary announced, to the cheers of many of the people there. Sherlock eyed the pool despairingly.

“What, am I supposed to dive in?” He asked sarcastically. She pouted.

“Well, that was the original idea, however, Greg has come up with a much better one!” She declared happily. Sherlock suddenly found himself being swung through the air by wrists and ankles, by Lestrade and Dimmock themselves. They were building up momentum, even as Sherlock struggled to free himself, and there was that countdown-

“Five!”

 _Forwards_.

“Four!”

_Backwards._

“Three!”

_Forwards._

“Two!"

_Backwards._

“One!”

_Forwards, let go-_

 

Sherlock flew through the air, landing arse first in the water and going under completely for a couple of seconds. He let himself sink, then kicked up from the bottom, emerging in a wave of cold water and ice cubes and flailing limbs, to loud applause.

“Oh my God, oh my God, cold, cold, _cold_ -“ He complained swimming to the side and heaving himself out, standing dripping beside Lestrade, glaring at him.

“Look, Sherlock- _aargh!”_ Lestrade gave a very surprised yelp as Sherlock shoved him in.

“You _bastard!_ It’s _fucking freezing!”_ The DI yelled angrily, trying to stay afloat and conserve body heat at the same time. Sherlock merely grinned, then shoved in Dimmock, too, soon followed by John, who pulled Mary after him, and then _he_ was shoved in again, and it all turned into merry chaos.

 

Lestrade still punched his arm afterwards.

 

* * *

 

Mycroft groaned in despair, watching the video sent by Greg Lestrade. They were all such _children_ sometimes, even his brother.

_“Who do you nominate?”_

_“M-Mycroft Holmes, I nominate him infinite times, actually, s-so he c-can’t wriggle out of it.”_

Anthea’s head snapped up from her Blackberry, an evil grin spreading across her features. Mycroft felt his stomach drop in horror.

“Oh no. I am _not-“_

“Sir, you cannot turn down a nomination. It simply isn’t done.” His PA informed him delightedly.

“But-“

“ _Sir._ You have to do it.”

 

Mycroft’s head met the desk with a loud thump.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and criticism all valued! If criticism could please stick under the 'constructive' umbrella, I'd be grateful. I hide my fragile self behind a massive ego (joke, I'm okay really!). 
> 
> Also, sorry for not posting for ages, exams are evil- and this is just the preparation! Will hopefully do a Christmas series in the twelve days leading up to Christmas, based on prompts from people I know IRL, and any I get via here. I'm also working on a massive AU, with the words taken directly from the show, which is why it's taking forever. Please tell me in the comments if you'd prefer a wing!fic or a crossover with The Golden Compass (as in, the characters of Sherlock all have daemons)!
> 
> What shameless self promotion! See, I try!
> 
> My titles often come from quotes. I tried typing 'Ice Bucket Challenge quotes' into the search engine, and predictably got nothing. So the title is from this quote by Jung Chang:
> 
> 'If you have love, even cold water is sweet.'
> 
> I thought it described the idea behind the money raising rather fittingly.


End file.
